


No, Scott. This Isn't a Diary: A Diary By C. Stiles J. Stilinski

by C Stiles J Stilinski (FullmetalFlameElric)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward Stiles, Awkwardness, Diary/Journal, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, Past Relationship(s), Police Officer Stiles Stilinski, Series of Connected Snippets, Teacher Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 06:09:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2140026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullmetalFlameElric/pseuds/C%20Stiles%20J%20Stilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Ok, to start off, let me be perfectly clear. This isn’t a diary, ok? This is NOT a diary. It’s a collection of thoughts and events chronicling my failures in the world of social interaction. Ok?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ok.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>So let me state again: this is not a diary.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ok, Scott?</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	No, Scott. This Isn't a Diary: A Diary By C. Stiles J. Stilinski

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series of connected snippets in journal entry form that I'll be putting together into one giant fic. I will update this as I find inspiration and as daily events influence the awkward little turtle that is Stiles. So please, just sit back and enjoy.

**Friday - August 15, 2014**

Ok, to start off, let me be perfectly clear. This isn’t a diary, ok? This is NOT a diary. It’s a collection of thoughts and events chronicling my failures in the world of social interaction. Ok?

Ok.

So let me state again: this is not a diary.

Ok, Scott?

Anyway. I guess I should start from the beginning. My name is Czeslaw Joanka Stilinski. Everyone calls me Stiles. I am 26 years old and have had a total of three semi successful relationships. Lydia Martin and I dated for two years until we graduated. She remains my closest friend after Scott. Then there was Malia for my three year stint in college before I dropped out and joined the police academy. And we just don’t talk about the year I dated Matt Daehler after I joined the force. Let’s just say it ended in a restraining order, stalking, and his eventual arrest.

Yeah. Like I said.

We don’t talk about it.

I live in a small town called Beacon Hills. It’s located in California, about two hours from Sacramento. It’s not a bad place. Not too big, not too small. With the preserve right along the city limits, it was a common place to run around and explore when I was a kid.

My dad’s the local sheriff. Has been since I was twelve. Till then, he was just a well respected deputy. Since, he’s been keeping the sleepy town of Beacon Hills safe, one noise complaint at a time. If we’re lucky we get the occasional speeder every few months. It’s exciting.

Did I mention I’m a deputy? I often find myself working with Jordan Parrish as my partner. He’s not too bad. Though I get the feeling he’s not my biggest fan. Still, we get along fine and it’s not like life is all that exciting.

If it’s not that exciting, why am I writing this? Because my therapist thought it would be helpful. That therapist being Lydia.

Yes. I’m best friends with my therapist.

Yes. I slept with my therapist.

Yes. I know.

My life is the epitome of fucked up.

But seriously, Lydia has been telling me to write down events and thoughts for a long while. I just finally decided do it because today was the day I made a complete ass of myself.

Today was the day that I met Derek Hale.

It was a normal day to begin with. I had a day off and Scott had a free day that morning so we decided to get some coffee. This wasn’t unusual. We were regulars and the baristas knew out coffee orders better than we did. And when we’re talking about Scott’s overly complicated coffee order, that’s saying something. 

We’d been discussing the recent rise in stray dogs around the area when I foolishly decided to look up towards the door.

And there he was. The Greek Adonis that was Derek Hale. Of course at this point, I had only a vague idea of who it was until Scott made a comment about it. Apparently the guy had been our history TA for two years while working on his teaching degree. I don’t remember him, but then again, I slept through every single history class and zombied my way through the tests. I guess it’s a good thing I get bored in the middle of the night and wander on wikipedia.

Either way, I couldn’t stop staring. I mean, I’ll admit, I am the most obvious person when I stare. It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s the horrible truth. I’m honestly amazed I ever even managed to date.

So there I was, staring. And Scott just knew. The bastard and his crooked jaw (yes, Scott. I went there. Stop reading this and get the fuck out of my apartment. And stop eating my food. You have your own place for that.) just sat there shaking his head. He told me not to do it. He said it was a bad idea. And he would know.

I should have known better. I get around attractive people and I word vomit. It’s terrible and it scares them off. One time it was so bad, I proceeded to make pterodactyl noises instead of actual words. I had an entire conversation this way.

I went up to get a second coffee and try to talk to Derek.

I ended up spilling my coffee all over a shirt that looked like it cost more than I make in a week. I flailed. Made it worse. Tried to clean it up. Made it worse. I rambled. Made it even worse.

I gave up and retreated back to my seat.

Derek glared.

Scott laughed.

I need a new life.

To anyone reading this (Not you, Scott), you’re a brave soul. I applaud you for joining me in this journey. If you’re just as awkward as me, I hope you find some comfort in knowing you’re not alone. And to all those that speak the language of awkward dinosaur, raise your voices in the song of our people.


End file.
